


Distracting

by apricotparker



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), tom holland - Fandom
Genre: Angst, F/M, Light Smut, Romanticizing getting your heart broken, roommate zendaya
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-07-11 17:30:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19931830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apricotparker/pseuds/apricotparker
Summary: Every few months, Tom pops back into your life. Every few months, you get your heart broken. And each time, you get more addicted to the pain.





	Distracting

tom: you up?

tom: i’m in town tonight

“Shit,” you grumble, tossing your phone across the couch, towards your roommate.

Zendaya looks up from her book, only to see that you’ve buried your face in your hands.

“What’s wrong?”

Shaking your head, you point to your phone, now face up next to her. She picks it up and gives a light chuckle.

“Yeah, that’s Tommy alright,” she hands it back to you with a knowing look.

It’s quiet between the two of you for a moment. Your stomach turns over, whether from dread or excitement you couldn’t be entirely sure.

It was Zendaya who had introduced you to Tom two years ago, and she always felt guilty for beginning your on-again-off-again, headache inducing, dating (but not really dating?) relationship with Tom.

The most accurate description of it was a clusterfuck, if you were being honest.

She sets her book down and looks at you, chewing on your thumbnail anxiously.

“Can I ask you something?”

You nodded hesitantly.

“Why do you keep hooking up with him if you know he doesn’t feel the same way as you?”

You paused, not knowing how to respond.

“He gives you these all these promises,” she continues, “and then leaves. And you end up hurt. Every time he’s in town, you end up hurt.”

You throw your arms over your eyes dramatically.

“Why are you friends with him if you think that, Z?”

She shrugs.

“He’s a good friend. But he’s a shitty boyfriend. This little thing you have is a bad idea, babe.”

She was right. She was more right than she knew. Every time he came to town, you had the same routine- he’d text you, you’d hesitate, you’d invite him over. You would have a great time, you’d fall a little bit more in love, and he would leave without saying goodbye. Every time you did this dance, a little bit more of your heart got chipped away. And jesus, did it hurt.

But with him, you found a little bit of poeticism in hurting.

“I have a morbid fascination with being beautifully heartbroken,” you moved towards your phone, texting him to come over, the same way you always did.

“Hmm. That’s a pretentious way to say you hate yourself.”

You threw a pillow at her head.

“It’s not that! Tom cares about me. He says he does, at least. The only reason he can’t stay with me is because he’s so busy. He has a lot of commitments and I’m just a little… distracting.” 

Even as you were saying the words, they felt fake. Parroting Tom’s excuses made an empty hole open up in your chest.

She scoffed at you.

“’Distracting’? That sounds like his words, not yours.”

You crossed your arms and pouted a bit.

“He’s too busy for a relationship. If he could be with me, he would be. He says so-”

“When? Before or after he gets lucky?”

You physically recoil from this. Her comment stung, and she knew it. But deep down, you knew it hurt because it was the truth.

“Tom has been doing this to you for two fucking years now. And he did it to other girls before him. He’s not going to change for you.”

You stare at the wall petulantly, not willing to admit how correct she was. 

“I really don’t know what he did to you. Before Tom, you never would have let any man treat you like this. I can’t watch you do this to yourself anymore, y/n. I really can’t.” On that note, Zendaya decided it was time to take her leave.

You sat silently as she walked into her room, gathering some items into a duffel bag. Your eyes followed her to the front door, where she scooped up her keys and turned back to you.

“I’m going to Laura’s for the night. Call me when you realize you’re making a mistake.”

The slamming door echoed through your apartment. You didn’t realize you had started crying until she was gone. Wiping a tear off your cheek, you moved towards the bathroom.

You had to look good for your mistake.

The knock on your front door sent a chill up your spine. Whether that was from excitement or nausea, you couldn’t really be sure.

“Just a second,” you called out the bathroom door, giving yourself one more check over in the mirror.

Before Tom, you never would have let any man treat you like this.

You shook your head hurriedly, trying to erase your roommate’s words from your head.

Rushing to open the door, you take a second to compose yourself. 

Was she right? Were you just hurting yourself?

Did you care?

Deciding to throw caution (and your better judgement) to the wind, you flung the door open. And there he was- 

Tom, with a bottle of champagne and a bouquet, leaning against your door frame.

“Hey, pretty girl,” he grinned crookedly, extending his gifts to you.

“Hi,” you breathe.

You both stand silently for a moment, taking the other in. Curly brown hair, warm brown eyes, perfect everything else. He hadn’t changed a bit since the last time you saw him.

He’s not going to change for you.

You took a little step back, a worried look crossing you features.

“What’s wrong, love?”

“Nothing!” you squeaked out. You grabbed the flowers and champagne out of his hands and rushed into the kitchen, hurrying to put the bouquet in a vase.

Tom chuckled quietly and followed you into the apartment. Coming up behind you as you were pouring water into the vase, he wrapped his arms around you, and started nuzzling into your neck.

“I missed you so much while I was gone, pretty girl,” he mumbled into your neck.

His hands started running up and down your sides as he pressed soft kisses into the space above your shoulder blades, and you suddenly forgot every doubt you had about the man holding you.

Tom reached around you and took the vase out of your hand, setting it on the counter next to you before turning you around to face him.

“You think about me while you’re away?” you whispered hopefully.

He nodded absentmindedly into your collar bone. You wrap your arms around him and sigh lightly, relishing in the simple physical contact you’d been lacking for months.

“You didn’t answer any of my texts, though,” you remembered, despite how distracting his mouth was.

“Well, you know, super busy, big movie star and all,” he answered, walking you backwards towards your bedroom, “and I made sure to call a few times.”

He’s right, you thought, he had no problem calling at 2 o’clock in the morning when he was feeling horny.

Tom shoved the door open and pushed you onto the bed, staring down at you hungrily.

He connected his lips to yours, and you leaned into it, like an addict on a relapse. You felt his hands push under your shirt, and you let him pull it over your head.

“You’re all that I want when I’m working, pretty girl.”

You lean up to kiss him, melting at the tender words.

When? Before or after he gets lucky? 

You shake again at the memory of Zendaya’s words.

Tom chuckles darkly.

“Distracted, y/n? I can help with that.”

He take the opportunity to reattach your lips and undo your bra, flinging it somewhere in your room. You gasp as his head reaches down to lick and nip at your chest, definitely leaving bruises. You bury your hand in his hair and sigh, eager to lose yourself in the moment.

He slides his hand down your sides and pulls down your bottoms roughly, and slides his hand gently into the front of your underwear.

“Does that feel good?” he whispers, moving his hand in gentle circles.

You nodded hurriedly.

“And who do belong to, baby girl?” He raises his head and stares at you in the eyes.

“’I’m yours,” you whisper, eyes rolling back slightly.

And that’s when you saw it.

Right there, at the base of his neck.

A hickey.

One that you definitely didn’t leave.

Your breath stuttered in your chest, and your mouth filled with saliva like you were about to vomit. Suddenly his presence felt like a fire, hot and suffocating above you, and jesus you couldn’t breathe any more.

Your heart pounded against your chest and your mind raced 100 miles an hour.

He’s fucking someone else he doesn’t love you he never did he never will he won’t change why would he god he never cared about you he’s fucking other people he’s just using you jesus you’re such an idiot for falling for him he’s fucking other people why can’t he just love you what’s his problem he’s fucking other people he’s fucking other people HE’S FUCKING OTHER PEOPLE-

“Stop,” you gasp. You shove him hard on the shoulder and sit up, trying to catch your breath.

Tom stared at you quizzically, and reached out to you.

“What’s wrong, darling-”

You wrenched away from his grasp, scrambled hastily backwards, and leaned against the headboard of your bed, chest heaving. You pull the sheets tight against you and let a sob pour out of you, tears following soon after.

There you sat, a girl with a broken heart, and a boy who didn’t understand his hold on you, until you were able to catch your breath again.

“There’s someone else,” you whispered, what felt like an eternity later. It wasn’t a question. It was a statement he knew better than to deny.

He shifted uncomfortably.

“We never- I mean I didn’t mean to… we never said this was an exclusive thing,” he stumbled over his words, scratching the back of his neck.

You laughed humorlessly.

“You knew. You knew how I felt, you knew I was back here waiting for a text from you, a call, any thing from you, like an idiot. You knew I loved you. Love you. I didn’t think I needed to spell it out for you that I wasn’t ok with you putting your dick in other people.”

Your words dripped in venom, and Tom’s skin blanched like he had been poisoned.

“You just say the pretty words, and fuck me when it’s convenient, and go back to your pretty Hollywood girlfriends, and fuck how I feel about it, right?” your voice cracked under the weight of it all, a fresh set of tears breaking the surface.

Tom stood up, and opened his mouth to say something, and then closed it again. He just waited, and watched you cry at him.

You threaded your hand through your hair, and placed your head on your knees, trying to even your breathing again.

“What are you saying, y/n?” Tom spoke lowly, seemingly unaffected, but the light behind his eyes had dimmed.

“I’m saying that I can’t be your distraction anymore, Tom. I can’t love someone who doesn’t care about me.”

The sentence hung in the air for a few seconds before it settled between you. The 2 year clusterfuck of miscommunication and heartbreak and love and hurt severed in a moment of clarity.

He nodded slightly. 

Tom turned away from you and moved to leave.

“You can say a lot of things that are true, but you can’t say that,” He said, still facing the door.

“I can’t say what, Tom?” you mumbled.

He turned back and gave you one last watery smile.

“That I never cared about you.”

And for the second time that night, someone walked out on you while you were crying.


End file.
